


hunting high and low

by dev0n



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Lisa Castle Lives, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 09:05:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17864471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dev0n/pseuds/dev0n
Summary: "There are always ridiculous rumors about /everything/ in this city, Matthew. But sometimes certain ones stand out. Sometimes they sound like they might actually be credible. And sometimes -- very rarely, but sometimes -- they're viable. This is one of those times. I'm almost sure of it."Now Elektra has Matt's full attention. She leans in toward him, and he can smell her -- rose oil and shampoo and the smell that's distinctly hers, though it's been tainted with something bitter since she came back. But that's not what Matt's focusing on. His attention is focused entirely on her words."This particular rumor, Matthew, is that the Punisher's daughter, Lisa Castle? She's still alive."





	hunting high and low

**Author's Note:**

> another thing i wrote over a year ago. i MIGHT continue it eventually, but i can't make any promises. i just...... hate leaving things hanging in my drafts that i spent so much time on. i wrote this before the punisher's first season & before daredevil's third season, so obviously it's pretty canon divergent. i don't know, don't think about it too hard. i sure didn't.
> 
> probably proofread this at some point.
> 
> title from blood like lemonade by morcheeba.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for pedophile mention and brief gore mention.

It starts, as do many events in Matt's life, with a rumor.

Matt is crouched on the corner of a rooftop when he hears the soft flutter of fabric behind him. Elektra has learned how to mask her heartbeat, he's come to find out, and she's been able to sneak up on him once or twice. But this time, the wind gives her away. Matt cocks his head down and toward his shoulder slightly, wary and tense.

"Elektra," he says cautiously.

"Matthew," she returns, sitting beside him with her legs dangling over the edge. One of the people Matt cares about most or not, he can't trust her. Not anymore. She's shaped the Hand into... Something different. Matt's still trying to figure out if it's a good thing or not.

And frankly, he doesn't have time to wonder about it tonight.

"What do you want?" Matt sighs after a few more moments of silence.

"You're friends with the one they call the Punisher, yes?"

Matt snorts, shaking his head. "'Friends' is really, really stretching it, Elektra. We've worked together once or twice, when we absolutely had to. Most of the time, I'm trying to bring him in to the police."

"Ah, well. You have a closer relationship to him than most, at least. Would you agree?"

"I... I suppose? Why? What's all this about, Elektra? You're not trying to recruit Frank Castle now, are you?"

Now it's Elektra's turn to scoff. "Not on my life. I have information for you -- both of you. I think it will interest him, in particular."

Matt turns his head slightly toward her. "Why not just give it to him, then?"

"One: because I can't be bothered to /find/ him. I could, certainly, but I don't care enough to try. Two: you're more likely to actually listen to me. Three: I'm only doing this to try and prove to you that I can still be trusted."

Matt sighs and turns his head away. She's not lying, as far as he can tell, but when somebody has that much control over their heartbeat... Well, it's entirely possible she's learned other tricks when it comes to hiding things, as well.

Even so...

"Alright, I'll bite," Matt grumbles. "What do you have that you think will make Frank Castle, of all people, want to work with me?"

Elektra slides a manila envelope from under her coat and hands it to Matt. "These are for him. I don't think they will be of much use to you." Her lips quirk up in amusement, and Matt rolls his eyes beneath the mask. But Elektra's expression sobers after a few seconds.

"There are always ridiculous rumors about /everything/ in this city, Matthew. But sometimes certain ones stand out. Sometimes they sound like they might actually be credible. And sometimes -- very rarely, but sometimes -- they're viable. This is one of those times. I'm almost sure of it."

Now Elektra has Matt's full attention. She leans in toward him, and he can smell her -- rose oil and shampoo and the smell that's distinctly hers, though it's been tainted with something bitter since she came back. But that's not what Matt's focusing on. His attention is focused entirely on her words.

"This particular rumor, Matthew, is that the Punisher's daughter, Lisa Castle? She's still alive."

If nothing else, that explains why Elektra came to him first. God knows what Frank's going to do when he finds out.

×××

"The fuck do you want, Red?" Frank snaps, not lifting his gaze from the scope of his rifle.

"I want you to pack that shit away and come with me. Now," Matt replies tersely. There must be something in his voice, because Frank actually glances up for a second.

"What crawled up your ass and died? Alright, alright, two minutes. Dirty fuckin' pedophile piece'a shit -- only walkin' free 'cause he's loaded. You okay with that?" Frank sounds like he's mocking him, but Matt knows it's a legitimate question. He doesn't directly answer Frank, but he swallows and turns around. Matt takes a few steps away, but he's well aware it'll do fuck all to actually spare him the sensory experience of the pedophile's death ten floors below. But it's best to just get this over with. In fact, just to speed it up a bit...

"He's on the second floor. Three guards, two in the truck including the driver. Nothing lethal on them, Frank."

"Yeah, yeah." Matt feels Frank wave a hand impatiently. "How long 'til he comes out?"

Matt tilts his head, listening. Then he begins to count. "Ten... Nine... Eight... ("One batch, two batch...") Seven, six... Wait until he's outside the glass. ("Penny and...") Three, two..."

 _"Dime."_  
"Now."

Matt bites his tongue and suppresses a shudder as the rifle goes off and he hears a bullet pierce the pedophile's skull. A perfect headshot, as far as he can tell. The rifle goes off a few more times, bullets piercing the limbs of the men who'd been working for the pedophile. Matt's strangely grateful that the smell of gun oil and gunpowder is closer than the smell of the blood and other horrifying body matter on the concrete -- and really, when the hell did gun oil and gunpowder become smells that put him at ease? He waits a few moments for Frank to finish packing up his gear, then takes off across the rooftops, assuming Frank will be able to keep up.

It took over a year, but they've come to a strange sort of agreement that Matt doesn't like to look at too closely.

Because that realization Matt had at the docks hadn't just been said in the heat of the moment. He'd meant it. Some men just deserved to die, and there was no way around it. Certainly not when those men were rich or powerful.

So Frank kills the truly horrendous criminals, the murderers and pedophiles and rapists and drug lords, but he leaves the ones who're just doing what they must to keep themselves and their families alive.

After some discussions Matt's had with Luke, he'd also realized something else: just breaking a few bones and throwing people in jail isn't going to change much. Frank's right about that, too. It was a hard truth to swallow, but Luke offered a plan. Matt could kick himself for not thinking of it sooner.

When they take down an operation that's been making big money -- drugs, trafficking, dog fighting -- they take the money and make anonymous donations to homeless shelters, vocational rehabilitation centers, and other severely underfunded places that make the city a better place.

Through all of this, Matt thinks that in retrospect maybe he and Frank have become something like friends, after all.

"So what was so goddamn important," Frank pants, "that we have to--"

Matt shushes him, turning his head slowly a few times to be sure they haven't been followed. "Take off your weapons and put them in the bag. I don't want them in my house." He also doesn't want Frank to shoot him, but that's neither here nor there.

Frank seems torn between irritation and disbelief. "You're lettin' the Punisher in your house, altar boy?" he taunts. "Ain't you afraid I'll find out who you are?"

Matt moves his head in a fashion he hopes conveys an exaggerated eye-roll even though Frank can't see his eyes. "Cut the shit, Castle. You know who I am, and I brought you here once before."

Frank starts to remove all his weapons and shove them into his duffel bag. Where the hell did he even fit some of those guns? "I was drugged off my ass, and you dragged me off somewhere else as soon as it wore off," he pointed out. Matt shrugged. "And I /might/ know who you are. I still ain't sure I wasn't seein' things when I was lookin' through that damn rifle scope." His coat and vest follow the weapons, and he hands it all over to Matt.

Matt takes them, immediately grimacing at the weight. He can smell at least two more guns and a knife on Frank's person, but it's good enough. "This is /heavy/, Frank! How the hell do you run around with all this on?"

"I was a Marine, Red," Frank says dryly. "Where you gonna put all that?"

Matt grunts and hefts the bag further up his shoulder. "C'mon."

His new apartment is smaller than the old one, but there's a spare room. With a little help from Danny, Matt managed to completely conceal the entrance, blending it in with the surrounding wall's pattern. He heads straight for the panel as soon as he gets inside, dropping Frank's gear next to the door. Matt pushes on a certain spot, and the door slides easily open.

"What, you Batman now?" Frank snorts.

"You're just jealous," Matt replies, taking off his helmet. "A gift from Danny Rand. He insisted I take extra precautions to protect my identity after Midland Circle." He holds the door open with his foot and finally turns to face Frank. Frank inhales sharply, heartbeat ticking up just the slightest bit.

"I fuckin' knew it was you. Even before you were on that roof with what's-her-face--" ("Elektra.") "-- When we were in that courtroom." Frank pitches his voice in a way that's surprisingly accurate to Matt's. " _'Permission to treat the witness as hostile, your honor?'_ That was when I knew it was you. Smug, self-righteous bastard. And it explained why you were so damn eager to defend me in the first place, you fuckin' boy scout. It sure as hell wasn't Nelson's idea."

Matt can't help the slight smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, well. I knew you weren't a monster, Frank. And I was right." He picks up Frank's gear again and heads into the room, holding the door open with his foot until Frank follows.

"Jesus Christ," Frank gapes. "Danny Rand really did turn your spare bedroom into the goddamn Batcave."

"It's not _that_ fancy," Matt laughs, setting his helmet on one of the three mannequin heads against the wall. He has two of them, apparently, and the third head is wearing the old, cracked mask. He tells himself it's not because of sentimental value, but, well...

Matt puts Frank's gun away in a cabinet in the corner, from which he also pulls the manila folder Elektra gave him. His expression sobers as he sets it on top of the table near the middle of the room.

"I don't know what's in here," he admits. "Elektra wouldn't tell me. Some of the pages are glossy, so I'm guessing they're photos." Frank starts to reach out for the file, but Matt stops him; his hand lands on top of Frank's rather than on top of the paper, but neither of them try to pull away. "Frank, whatever's in here -- you need to keep calm, and you need to work with me. Promise me."

Frank scowls and tries to pull the folder away, but Matt's quicker; he grabs Frank's wrist.

"I can't promise shit, Red. What the hell is supposed to be in here, anyway?"

Matt takes a deep breath. "I don't know how true it is, and neither did my source. This was the best she found--"

"Elektra?"

"Yes. Elektra. She came to me because she knew you'd act rashly, and if it's true, this goes _deep,_ Frank. You'd get yourself killed in an instant. For real, this time."

"For fuck's sake, Red, _what is it?_ "

"Your daughter might still be alive."

Frank doesn't react violently, as Matt predicted. He loosens his grip on the file and tugs his hand out of Matt's grip; he doesn't use much force, so Matt just lets go.

"No. She can't -- I saw, her, Red. She was dead before she hit the ground, before I even held her in my arms. You know that. You -- she --" Frank shakes his head and rubs a hand over his face. "You didn't see her body. This has gotta be some kinda sick joke." And there's the rage Matt's been expecting. Frank grips the edge of the table tightly. "I'm gonna fuckin' kill her all over again -- who the fuck does she think she is, huh? And who do you think _you_ are, Red? Tellin' me this fairytale bullshit?"

Frank sweeps the file off of the table. The contents scatter across the floor. Matt tenses, because Frank seems poised to hit him -- but then he stops. His heart starts to pound and he falls to his knees on the floor, fingertips just barely skirting the edge of one of the photos as if he's afraid to touch it.

"Frank?" Matt asks, walking around the table to kneel beside him. "Frank, what is it?"

"My... My baby girl," Frank whispers, free hand coming up to clutch blindly at Matt's arm. "It can't be nobody else. I know my baby girl's face. I know my --" His breath hitches on a sob. Matt hasn't heard Frank like this since that night on the graveyard, that night neither of them have spoken of since.

"Frank," Matt says softly, resting one hand over the other's and squeezing. "Remember that we can't be sure. And we don't have a lot to go on. Okay? Don't get your --"

"I know, I know. I can't get my hopes up. But this..." Frank's breath hitches again. Matt feels his own eyes start to prickle with tears at the very thought of what Frank must be feeling right now. "This is _her_ , Matt. A couple years older than she was at the -- at the park, yeah, but I know it's her. This ain't some fuckin' -- Photoshop, or whatever. It's my baby girl. It's my Lisa." Frank's voice finally cracks on the last word, and without thinking about it, Matt reaches out and tugs the other man into an embrace.

Frank stiffens at first, then slacks, one hand resting against Matt's chest while the other wraps around his back. He rests his forehead against Matt's shoulder, heartbeat finally starting to calm. It's an awkward position, but Matt's surprisingly comfortable with it. Surprisingly comfortable with this show of vulnerability shared between the two of them. Neither of them say anything for a few minutes. They just stay there, Frank composing himself and Matt trying to work out how, exactly, Lisa Castle survived.


End file.
